*Warning: Gorey Scene in this chapter.*
Henley woke up early the next morning, her conversation with Sam the night before on replay, like a broken recorder. She still couldn't believe that Sam knew, and was willing to let her tell Dean on her own accords. Henley rushed through her morning routine, deciding on her light blue boot cut jeans, and white halter top that said "Not all those who wander are lost" in cursive. She slid on her high heel brown boots. Thankfully they were tall enough so that her pants didn't touch the ground. She threw her hair up in a messy bun, and scuttled over to Sam and Dean's room. She stopped short, and composed herself before rapping lightly on their door. She smiled when Sam came into view, letting her into the room. She sat down on the green tattered chair in the corner, and looked up at Sam as he sat down in the wheely-chair near the desk. He gave her a warm smile, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. Henley mimicked him, raising an eyebrow in his direction. He let out a breathy laugh, getting back up and taking a sip from one of the two Styrofoam coffee cups.
"Do you want one? I can go down to the lobby and grab-"
"No thanks, I'm good." Sam set down his cup of coffee, and sat on the bed closest to Henley. She stopped plucking the frayed pieces of fabric off the chair, and looked up as his shadow cast over her. She gave him a questioning look as he opened his mouth multiple times, attempting to say something but never making any progress. Henley rolled her eyes, "Just spit it out already." Sam seemed a little taken back by her bluntness but nonetheless began speaking.
"Listen Henley, I mulled over what we discussed last night, and I really don't think it's a good idea to keep this from Dean any longer-"
"What do you mean any longer? You said I could tell him after the hunt, and I will. I promise. You can't just go back on our promise, that's not how it works."
"Henley, if something were to happen to you and Dean didn't find out till after the hunt, it would destroy him." Sam straightened up, his facial expression gravely serious.
"Nothing bad is going to happen. At least nothing extremely bad. I might get some cuts and bruises, but I've survived a lot worse." She stood up, walking over to the dresser, leaning on it. Sam opened his mouth to respond when the door to the room swung open, ricocheting off the wall.
"Hey Sam I think I found a new lead..." Dean trailed off as his eyes landed on Henley. "Oh, hey kid."
Henley rolled her eyes. God she hated when he called her that. Dean tossed a manila folder onto the bed, and Sam picked it up, filing through the contents. Henley plopped down on the bed next to Sam reading the contents in the file over his shoulder. She furrowed her brow as she realized she was reading a file on the chairman from Pen publishing they all met a few days ago. God, she really hoped they wouldn't have to talk to him again.
"Dean, why do you have a file on Drew from Pen Publishing ?" Henley asked. She looked up to find him smirking, as he cocked his head to the side.
"Well, let's just say I found out who our next victim is. I paid a little visit to Pen Publishing early this morning before they opened, and-"
"Wait, you were up at before they opened? Well I'm impressed you actually took the initiative to get up early and retrieve Intel," Sam interjected, a coy smile spread across his lips. Dean scoffed, before continuing.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I paid a visit to Pen Publishing this morning, and had a little chat with Drew. There was something sketchy about that guy the first time we interviewed him. I just couldn't shake the feeling he was hiding something. So, we talked, and he eventually revealed to me that he and his wife were in the process of getting divorced, but he didn't tell me the reason. Then I went down to the local police station to see the file for divorce. I persuaded the lovely red head receptionist to get me the file, along with her number." Dean licked his lips, waving a small slip of paper with seven digits scribbled across it. Henley shook her head, looking back at the file.
"Wait, it says here that the cause for divorce was adultery," Sam stated, looking back up at Dean.
"Yeah, I know. That sound familiar to you?" Dean asked, cockiness evident in his tone.
"Weren't all the victims acting shady before their death?" Henley asked, looking up from the file, and towards Dean.
"Exactly, so guys acting shady. They're in a long term relationship. Next thing you know their hearts are ripped out. I'd say all these men were having an affair, and a certain werewolf didn't like it"
"That actually sounds like a reasonable explanation," she concluded, nodding her head in agreement.
"Yeah, I'm not an idiot. I did my research," Dean quipped. Henley looked back at Sam, only to see him roll his eyes. Clearly Sam didn't believe Dean about his supposed researching.
"So, what does this mean?" Henley asked, curious as where to go from here.
Dean sighed, "It means we've got a skeezy chairman to babysit tonight."
***
The Impala purred, as they coasted down a back road, finding themselves in front of a mansion, as Drew pulled his sports car into one of his many garages. Henley shook her head. She could never understand why someone would ever need more than one garage. People typically don't own more than two cars. Dean put Baby in park at the edge of the woods, that towered over both sides of Drew's mansion. He turned the headlights off, so as to go undetected, and slouched down into the seat. Henley could already tell this was going to be a long night.
Henley yawned, as she nestled further down into the black leather of the Impala. They had been watching Drew's house for over two hours now, and the only noise to be heard was the wind whistling through the branches of the oak trees. She was just about nod off, when a crash resonated through the mansion, pulling Henley out of her dazed state. She looked up towards the mansion to see lights flicker on, and shadows dance across the blinds. Henley smirked, finally something exciting. She frowned as she realized something was off. Sam and Dean hadn't budged once since the crash. She peered over the front seats only to find Sam and Dean sound asleep. Sam's head was rested against the window, his mouth hanging slightly open. She looked over to Dean and saw him snoring lightly, with a permanent frown etched into his face. Jeez, and these guys were supposed to be the cream of the crop. Henley heaved a huge sigh, before shaking both of their shoulders vigorously.
"Wake up, you two dollop heads. We have work to do." Sam and Dean both groaned, before lolling off again. Henley was beginning to get annoyed. She needed to do something drastic to wake them. However, she didn't want to make too much noise, and draw the werewolf right to them. Henley rolled up her imaginary sleeves, and smacked both boys upside the head. Sam and Dean shot up out of their seats, rubbing the sore spot on their head. Sam tuned around a look of shock on his face. Dean just glowered at her.
"What the hell, kid!" Dean exclaimed, confusion written clearly across his face. Henley just pointed at the mansion, a knowing look on her face. The lights were now flickering on and off more violently. A look of surprise flashed across their faces, before they became gravely serious. Dean hopped out of the car, Sam following suit. Henley rushed out behind them, watching as they each grabbed two guns, chock full of silver bullets. She pulled her Glock 45 out of the back of her jeans, switching her normal bullets for silver ones. She tucked her gun into the waist of her pants, looking up at the brothers. Dean looked up a the house once more, before facing her and Sam. "Okay, Henley you come with me. We'll go in the front door. Sam you take the back." Sam nodded, creeping his way along the road, and disabling the security system on the gate within a matter of seconds.
Dean and Henley followed close behind, splitting off from Sam as they made their way to the front door, guns drawn. Henley rested her hand on the knob only to be pulled back, as Dean wrapped a hand around her shoulder, tugging her behind him. He gave her a stern look, before trying the knob himself, only to find the door unlocked. Dean stepped inside, his eyes darting to every corner of the room. Henley followed closely, pressing her back up against Dean's, keeping watch out the way they entered. Henley whipped around as Dean tapped her shoulder. He silently motioned for her to take the upstairs, as he made his way behind the spiral staircase into what Henley presumed was the kitchen. She let out a nervous breath. She really hated werewolves. Ever since her first encounter left her with three long claw marks across her stomach she had tried to avoid anything that sounded remotely like a werewolf.
Henley stepped out onto the landing, making her way down the dimly lit hall. She checked in a few darkened bedrooms, before coming across a closed door, light seeped underneath the crack, and spilled into the hallway. She gulped, before trying the door. It opened with ease, revealing an empty bedroom. Henley slowly made her way into the bedroom, her nerves on edge, ready to attack anything that came within view. She stopped in the middle of the expansive room, observing the unmade bed. She kicked the rumpled magenta sheets that spilled halfway across the floor. She was about to lift the covers back when a low growl emitted from across the room. Henley spun around, only to find nothing. She cocked her gun, as she crept over to the on suite bathroom. Henley pushed open the door, the hinges creaking as she stepped inside. The light from the bedroom lit up the majority of the bathroom, and she almost puked at the sight before her.
The busty red headed secretary from Pen Publishing hovered over Drew, her mouth dripping with Drew's blood. Henley looked down at the man to find him splayed across the tile floor, his chest ripped open, and innards spilling out. His intestines looked like an uncoiled string of sausages, glued together by his own blood. Teeth marks littered his body, drops of blood seeping out of them and trickling onto the ground, adding to the giant puddle beneath him. She watched shell shocked as the secretary stuck her hand in his chest, wriggling around, until she finally wrenched out his heart. She began to gnaw on the misshapen muscle, savoring every bite. Pieces of raw flesh stuck to her blood-stained chin, as the insides of the heart gushed out, showering the floor in more of the thick red liquid.
Henley shook her head, phasing out of her trance. She gulped, taking a step back, as her shoe skidded across the newly polished tile floor. Dammit. Henley's head shot up, a look of trepidation on her face, as the werewolf began snarling at her, it's upper lip curling, and taking two slow menacing steps forward. She held her gun out in front of her, her arm quivering slightly. She puffed out a frustrated and scared breath, before locking her arm. She rested her finger on the trigger-
A loud crash resounded from downstairs followed by Dean letting out a string of not so nice words. Henley froze, eyes widening, as the werewolf bared it's teeth emitting a deep growl, arching its back, and getting ready to pounce. Henley spun around, tearing out of the bathroom, and bedroom, making her way into the hall. She didn't dare look behind her as she knew the creature was gaining due to the increase in sound of it's heavy feet colliding with the ground. She let out a screech as the thing pounced on her back. Thankfully, in the midst of falling she managed to twist herself around coming face to face with the werewolf. As Henley hit the ground her head bounced off the floor, the gun sliding out of her hands. She put her arm against the monster's neck, holding it back as she grabbed her silver dagger out of her boot. She screamed in agony as it's claws sunk into her abdomen, piercing her skin, drawing blood. She sucked in a breath, bringing her right arm up, jamming the knife into the werewolf's skull. Her muscles relaxed as the werewolf began to hack up blood, before slumping down onto Henley.
"Oof," Henley exclaimed, as she slammed back down onto the ground. She strained to get out from underneath the werewolf, eventually managing to roll it off of her. She gasped, standing up, coughing for a good few minutes, leaning against the railing of the stairs. Henley stood upright, as Dean appeared below her, with what appeared to be concern etched into his face. Though, she wasn't entirely sure, as her vision was a little hazy due to the head to floor contact. Dean raced up the stairs, noticing her demeanor, halting as he came across the dead werewolf. He arched an eyebrow in her direction, before yanking the knife out of it's head. He handed it to her, with what seemed to be approval written in his features, before treading off to the bedroom, where she told him the dead body was. Sam came bounding up the stairs soon after, coming over to her, and inspecting the bruised spot on her head. She winced, as he lightly felt around her sore spot.
"Sorry," he muttered. "So, you might have a mild concussion, just don't go to sleep for the next few hours, and you should be good. If any dizziness occurs, or extreme pain in your head, let me know, okay?" Henley nodded, as Sam hauled the dead werewolf over his shoulders, preparing to burn it. Henley waited till he was out the door before, taking her hand off her puncture wounds. Her hand was coated in the sticky red substance, making her fingers mesh together. Thank goodness, neither of them noticed it. For if they had, they might have forbid her from hunting ever again, and even though she'd only been doing this for six months, she loved being able to help people, and learn about ancient lore. Henley gasped, gripping the railing so tight her knuckles turned white. God it hurt like a son of bitch. She carefully lifted her shirt up with her clean hand, inspecting the wound. It wasn't too bad. It would need stitches, and if she didn't stop the bleeding soon, she might pass out, but no major arteries were punctured and they weren't so deep as to cause internal bleeding. Henley pressed her blood soaked hand back on the wound. She slowly maneuvered her way down the stairs, teetering back and forth, as her vision became blurry again. She steadied herself on the hand railing, as she reached the bottom. Henley looked up, as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, to see Dean carting Drew's body over his shoulder. A frown formed on his face as he met her at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hey, kid, you okay?" Dean asked. Though to Henley it sounded more like "Heeeeey, Kiiiiiiiiiiiiid, yokay." She managed to nod yes, as she stumbled to the floor, her vision going in and out of focus. The last thing she see's is Dean leaning over her, yelling for Sam, and telling her she is going to be alright.